


Marked

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Chan, Dark, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-22
Updated: 2006-01-22
Packaged: 2018-10-26 08:37:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10783314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: She had been waiting for him.  Now he is hers.





	Marked

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: For [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=deaddollsmile)[**deaddollsmile**](http://deaddollsmile.livejournal.com/) who wanted Bellatrix/James.   


* * *

  
His mouth was dry, his jaws aching, his lips wet and the skin where they joined rubbed raw. His tongue was beneath the red and gold tie currently used as a gag, so tightly fastened that he couldn’t do more than touch the back of his teeth with the tip of his tongue.  
  
  
There was no such friction against his wrists and ankles. Magical restraints held his long arms above his head, the wrists crossed, his blunt fingernails digging into his rough palms. Similar restraints held his legs, spread obscenely wide, tightening around his flesh every time he tried to move.  
  
  
Beneath him was cold stone. His bare body lying on the jagged stone, feeling every indention from neck to arse to feet, each movement causing his body to feel prickles of pain as the varying ragged edges poked and scraped his skin. He had only just turned fifteen, but he was all ready one of the tallest students at Hogwarts, the slab of stone barely long enough for his body.  
  
  
Messy black hair fell across his forehead, framing his thin face, the sweat soaked locks sticking to his cheeks. His skin was flushed, pale pink from fear or arousal or perhaps a bit of both. His lips were red, lacking their natural pout at the moment, the blood covering them emphasizing their fullness. A drop of sweat, perhaps a tear, slowly slid from beneath his spectacles, tracing the lines of his nose before gathering on his upper lip.  
  
  
His spectacles were blurred, coated with a mixture of sweat, saliva, and blood, but hazel eyes blinked beneath them, able to see through the haze, watching _her_ with trepidation, or maybe it was anticipation. Following the glint of the blade held in the small hand, graceful movement from the beautiful seventh year currently straddling his groin. His cock throbbed, the head coated with pre-cum, his balls tight and more sensitive than usual. She rubbed against him as she moved, her smile deliberate, knowing exactly what he was feeling as she coyly moved the wet lips of her cunt against his erection.  
  
  
“You have a nice cock, Potter,” she purred in a tone that spoke of sensuality and softness, contradicting the foul words and rough action. “Not many boys your age are so welcoming of my games, but you’re a special one, aren’t you?”  
  
  
His body bucked beneath her as the blade pierced the flesh above his hard nipple. The tie in his mouth concealed his cry of pain, or perhaps it was a moan of pleasure. She laughed as her eyes focused on the blood now dripping from the swirl the blade had made. Without hesitation, the blade began to cut his skin. A blend of circles, swirls, shallow wounds, deep cuts. She was an artist, the knife her brush, his blood her paint.  
  
  
“I know who you are, Potter,” she whispered as she worked, looking away from the tapestry to catch his eyes. She moved a blood soaked finger against his lips, tracing them once again. Leaning forward, she licked away the blood before biting down on his bottom lip, his body again writhing beneath hers. “I see it in your eyes, boy. I have since you were nine and I caught you watching me at your parent’s party. Do you remember that night? So young yet already so beautiful. Innocence just begging for defilement, for my attention. My traitor of a cousin ruined it, ruined my plans, but now you’re mine. Always mine. Sirius cannot have you, Potter. You belong to me and always will. You need me, crave me, want me, and I see it every time I look in your eyes.”  
  
  
He watched her face, finding her so beautiful, her raven hair falling forward, brushing against his blood soaked chest. Her eyes never left his as she slowly licked the flowing blood, moaning in appreciation, her bare breasts warm against his skin. His chest was rapidly rising and falling, the sound of him breathing from his nose not distracting from the moans and whimpers Bellatrix was making as she licked her way down his body. James’ legs pulled unconsciously as her long fingernails dug into his upper thigh, breaking the skin as surely as her blade.  
  
  
A flash of a smile, dark and sensual, her intense gaze seeing _him_ as she looked up and caught his eyes before her lips enveloped the head of his cock. His pelvis raised from the stone, the binding around his ankles tightening so much he could feel his feet growing numb, the ache in his legs from being spread so far open replaced by the sensation of painful pleasure as she began to suck his cock.  
  
  
He was moving against the stone, oblivious to the sharp pricks of the jagged stone against his body, crying hoarsely from behind the gag. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll release the spell when you’re inside me.” Her words were alive with condescension, looking at the fifteen year old boy with an aura of superiority before she again took his cock into her mouth. Her teeth scraped against his erection, her hand lying the knife on the cold slab beneath them before moving between his legs.  
  
  
His legs pulled up quickly when her finger slid into him, tears in his eyes as her nail scraped against the walls of his arse. Muscles tightened, trying to force her out, stinging and burning. She laughed as she sucked him, the sensation of the amused humming causing his body to thrust upward, into her throat. He only realized she had added another finger when he felt her spreading them inside his tight bum, thrusting into him rapidly, scraping and pulling and twisting, causing him to bleed. Her tongue ran along the flap of skin on the head of his cock before she raised her head, letting him slide from her mouth with an obscene plop.  
  
  
She watched him with that smug smile on her lips as he thrashed around, his arse riding her fingers, three now sliding in and out, fucking him with forceful strokes. “You look so pretty like this, Potter,” she smiled. “Naked, bound, fucking me like the traitorous whore we both know you are deep down. Perhaps I should seek one of my dear bastard cousin’s hair. I can fuck you hard then, with his face and cock, give you what you crave, what you desire. You are nothing more than our little slut. The Black’s own you, boy. _I_ own you. You’re mine. Anything and everything of yours is and always will be mine.”  
  
  
He watched her pull her hand up, seeing the blood on her fingers as she lazily licked them, his arse gaping and empty, muscles still clenching. When she straddled him, he whimpered, feeling her wet cunt slide down on his cock. She began to move, up and down, her breasts full and round, catching his attention even as he again became aware of the pain throughout his body. She twisted her nipples hard, moaning and tightening around his shaft, her pale skin pink from his blood.  
  
  
He could do nothing as she rode him, simply watch her and allow her to use his body. Her coarse curls brushed against his as she leaned forward, licking his chest, lapping at the blood still flowing from her designs. She was making the most hypnotic sounds, his head full of moans and whimpers and short gasps of breath as she ground against him. He was so hard, aching for release, his body sore and used. She arched her body as she came, her head falling back as she rode him through her climax. He could feel her juices slick, thick, wet dripping down his cock, mixing with his own pre-cum as they dripped between his legs, pooling around his arse before hitting the slab of stone.  
  
  
She looked at him then, her expression content, her eyes practically glowing with knowledge, darkness, and power. His hips raised into her, his mouth moving around the tie in his mouth, begging her, his please muffled by the material gagging him. His spectacles slid down his nose, his hair in his eyes, sweat, blood, saliva coating his body. She laughed, the sound thick and husky, a flash of madness in her eyes and laugh, and he had never seen anything so beautiful. He wanted, need, craved, his eyes telling her what he could never say, what he did not even realize.  
  
  
Leaning forward, her lips bit his neck as her cunt tightened around him. Moving to his ear, she cooed, “My pretty little whore. Come for me, James. Let me feel you pulse inside me.” Fingernails dug deeply into the ‘B’ across his chest, the name marking him as hers, she whispered, “Finite incantatem.” His body shuddered beneath hers as he came, his seed spilling inside her, exhaustion overtaking him as she milked his release with her cunt.


End file.
